August 24, 2016
You are from my rib he breathed
Into the bed linens
Yet I heard and grinned,
Because I had ripped it
My life is like my hair on dye-
I change the color yet every try
Has never stopped it getting dry.
It’s true beauty can stop a heart
If made of twinklings of sassafras,
Honeydew and soft blown glass
Even the lines in my neck can trace the outline of his lips beneath his beard.
No one else knows so e...
May 19, 2016
The perfect name for a bar,
we all agreed as we made our way
up the dark, wooden staircase
and the thick...
I have a room now,
with two white curtained windows,
lined by four green wilting plants,
and three cheap...
April 19, 2016
A grieving father finds solace in the last spark of life he has left... his daughter.
Lucy's father ch...
March 22, 2016
When faced with life or death, when choosing to kill or be killed, the grit of who we are is revealed...